


Elements of Desire - Avatar: TLA & LOK one shots

by liliianna



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bending (Avatar), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27415975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliianna/pseuds/liliianna
Summary: one shots of your favs in the steamiest positions.for the gaang, it's been 10 years since the end of the hundred year war.for team avatar 2.0, it's 5 years later since the end of s4.i wonder what they are up to...(my OG character is a water & bloodblender from the southern water tribe, named Imora, 24y/o)
Relationships: Aang (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Bolin (Avatar)/Original Character(s), Mako (Avatar)/Original Female Character(s), Sokka (Avatar)/Original Female Character(s), The Gaang (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Zuko (Avatar)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. the heat of zuko

Imora watched as his long, lean figure glided down the endless hall—so graceful and angelic—it took her breath away. His crimson robes barely grazed the floor, floating behind him as though an invisible person were there, holding them and refusing to let his greatness be lowered to the _unimaginable_ standard of allowing his hem touch the porcelain tile.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Imora’s alluring voice slithered through the air smoothly, and she removed herself from her hiding spot behind the large pillar.

He stopped in his tracks, turning ever-so slightly. Zuko’s scarred, amber eye flickered over her, surveying the scene and locating her among the wonders of the hallway. Aside from the portraits of past and present family members, amidst the crimson, gold, and black banners that lined the windows, apart from the glorious and precious familial heirlooms—there she stood, alone.

He twisted on his heel, his sleek hair brushing behind his shoulder from the quick movement, and faced her completely. “Imora,” he said, steadily. “What brings you so close to the doors of the council meeting? Were you listening in?”

Imora strode to the Fire Lord’s side, linking her arm with his. “Oh, Zuko, as much as I _love_ your council meetings…” She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of sitting through one of those dull gatherings, even if her friends were there.

It was all business and politics and seriousness during those meetings, and even Sokka couldn’t shoot out enough jokes to make it enjoyable. Or even _bearable_.

Zuko chuckled under his breath, shaking his head softly. The bun atop his head shook back and forth, and the crown that adorned it quaked, too, almost violently. Imora reached up, securing and stabilizing it in its rightful place. He watched her closely, his eyes ablaze with feeling.

“How lovely you look today, Imora.” He murmured, his eyes meticulously examining her every inch.

The sides of her lips turned upwards, as a smile slowly crept upon them. Imora smoothed the azure and crimson silk gown her betrothed had gifted her the night before. The gown fit tightly about her body, accentuating the shape of her waist and curve of her hips. Long, flowing sleeves draped her arms, while her shoulders and neck were left completely exposed—something she preferred with the heat of a Fire Nation summer upon them.

Imora blinked slowly, glancing up at Zuko from under her dark lashes. She could feel her heart pounding harder against her ribcage the longer he stared at her. “Thank you, your highness. My fiancé will appreciate the compliment.” She raised an amused eyebrow.

Zuko cocked his head to the side, but said nothing. Instead, they continued their walk in silence, arms still hooked together, at a pace that was _not_ considered to be stroll. Imora’s breath caught in her throat as they made their way through the palace.

She knew where he was taking her.

She knew and she wished they were already there.

Except the Fire Lord kept up this fast, yet slow pace, through the halls, past the dining room and library, across the courtyard. He was torturing her. The wait was almost too much for her to handle. Her control wasn’t _that_ strong.

Finally, _finally_ , Zuko’s fingertips brushed up the inside of her arm as he swung open the grand door to his bed chambers. Imora gazed into his eyes deeply, curiously, looking for answers. But he’d gotten so wise this past decade. He was no longer the teenager that felt lost and confused. Somewhere between imprisoning his father and becoming Fire Lord, he had become the man he was destined to be. Free from the constraints of his overbearing father, free from the torment of his unstable sister.

He had found peace.

Imora took his hand in her own, lacing their fingers together, and led him inside, locking the door behind her. Zuko watched in quiet awe as she brought him to the enormous, canopied bed in the very center of the circular room, pulling aside the curtains and pushing him in.

Yes, Zuko had found peace—but he had also found _her_. His muse. His world. A woman who had visited him in his dreams, and comforted him in his hallucinations. His soulmate. _His_ Imora.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” murmured Imora, standing in front of her fiancé, commanding his full attention.

Her hands dragged across his shoulders, unhooking every last button of his robes, and pushing them over his shoulders. She was happy to see the thin, red tunic and plain, black trousers he wore underneath. Imora always admired Zuko’s humility, his modest nature, his pure beauty. Blinking her desirous eyes slowly, she released his crown from his bun and let his hair flow naturally. She freely ran her fingers through the silky, soft black locks, as he leaned into her touch.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” she repeated. “Would you take this dress off me?” The pitch of her voice changed, unwillingly rising into a higher, softer tone. This was much unlike the seductive one she had been using—she wanted him to squirm and shift and writhe for her—and she did not think the high pitch was very stimulating.

Zuko growled, “With pleasure,”

In a swift movement, his arm looped around her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, where she could already feel hardness against her leg. Zuko pressed hot, wet kisses to her shoulders, her neck, her collarbones—sucking, kissing, licking everywhere his mouth touched—and her mouth gaped open from the sensations. Warmth boiled in the pit of Imora’s stomach as she observed Zuko’s ravenous gaze across her body.

The back of his hand dragged across her bare neck, his fingertips tickling her spine and shooting shivers throughout her body. He slowly and meticulously unfastened each of the dozens of pearl buttons that lined up with her spine.

“ _Zuko_ …” Imora gasped, unable to be patient for much longer. “Now… _please_ …”

His lips curved into a smile against her skin, and he dragged his tongue along her shoulder blade. At last, his full palm caressed the small of her back, bare and on display, when he finished with all the buttons.

“Patience, my love,” he said between pressing kisses at the base of her neck, making her hair stand up.

Imora arched her back and rolled her head to the side, allowing him better access. The gown hung on her body by only her arms and, honestly, she needed it off _now_. So, pulling away, she stood and, almost immediately, the gown fell, pooling like a silky puddle of water around her ankles.

Zuko’s eyes flashed. “My queen,” he licked his lips, voice raspy and deep. “Look at you…” He reached for his betrothed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Imora climbed atop him, settling herself against his erection. As a bloodbender, she could feel his blood pumping through his veins, his heart thumping against his ribcage, his pulse quickening. The sound of his arousal made her throb, and she pressed her lips hungrily to his, weaving her fingers in his hair and gripping it tight.

Their lips were in sync with one another—perhaps from all the practice they’ve had—tongues stroking and licking gently. Zuko’s hands roamed her naked body, insatiable and erratic, never stopping to caress, continuing onward to feel the softness of her skin.

“I want to worship you,” Zuko whispered, barely pulling his lips away from hers to say those five words. But she couldn’t resist, and her lips were immediately on his again, moaning in agreement. “I want look at you.”

Imora pulled away, laying herself down on the plush bed, naked and ready to play. Zuko’s eyes looked over her hungrily, biting his bottom lip. She reached up to him, caressing his strong jaw, stroking his scar with the pad of her thumb.

He licked his lips, his hands running up the sides of her body, feeling her curves. He caressed her breasts in his large hands, kneading them like dough, rolling her hard nipples between his thumbs in unison. She gasped again, arching her back, as warmth found its way back into the pit of her stomach. Zuko watched her squirm, smirking, and leaning over her until their noses touched.

She wanted to kiss him—she thought now she would kiss him—but his lips had other plans. The Fire Lord dragged his tongue down her neck to her left breast, capturing her stiff nipple between his lips.

Imora moaned shamelessly. _Whoever heard be damned,_ she thought, watching _her_ Zuko roll her nipple between his tongue and teeth, his eyes watching her closely. The sight of him with her sensitive nub in his mouth made her wet—wet and throbbing and writhing. He growled, flicking it with his tongue before moving on to the right one. Zuko sucked and licked on her nipple like he never had before, as though he were worshipping them.

Worshipping her.

She gripped the roots of his silken hair, forcing him to look up at her. “Zuko, please, baby…” Her head fell back against the mattress again as he continued to bite and suck, ignoring her pleas. She gripped the hem of his shirt, ripping it up above his head, and throwing it to the floor.

“Baby girl,” Zuko stared up at her, skimming her nipple with his tongue briefly before crawling down to the floor, settling on his knees. “My beautiful…” he hitched her legs up, setting them on his shoulders. “Baby…” Zuko nudging his nose against her swollen clit and inhaled sharply, making Imora almost scream. “Girl…”

She lifted herself up onto her elbows, for the purpose of watching his every move—of watching the show.

Slowly and then all at once, Zuko lapped at her throbbing pussy like a dog in need of water. He was insatiable: slurping her wetness, tasting the juices in between her folds, taking in mouthfuls of her. Imora squirmed beneath his tongue, and Zuko gripped her hips hard, digging his fingers into her skin. _I want bruises_ , she thought with a whimper.

Zuko’s amber eyes never left her own—he loved feeling her tremble under him, seeing her writhe from his touch, tasting the sweetness of her pussy on his tongue. _His muse. His soulmate. His queen._

“ _F-fuck, baby, I—_ ” it came out as a strangled moan from Imora, unable to control her words, or herself.

The Fire Lord dragged his tongue up and down, from her swollen clit to her wet lips to her tight asshole, varying pressure and exhaling his hot breath on the most sensitive of parts. Imora’s hips bucked upwards as Zuko pushed his tongue inside her, and she screamed a moan. Her words all slurred and blended together with variations of “ _yes, just like that_ ” and “ _fuck, don’t stop_ ” as her body responded so well to the worship.

“I want you to cum for me, Imora,” growled Zuko against her pulsating clit. “Will you be a good girl for your Fire Lord?”

And, spirits, there was no way in hell she _wouldn’t_ be a good girl for him.

“ _Yes, baby…yes, baby…”_ she panted over and over again, gripping her fiancé’s hair and pushing his face into her pussy.

Almost as though he could sense her need, Zuko slurped his tongue faster, knowing exactly what she needed. His grip around her hips moved to her thighs, tightening and attempting to move her closer. The sound of his tongue at work sent another shiver rippling through her body. And almost as quickly as it began, her body responded easily. A burst of heat coursed through her veins—to her fingertips and toes and scalp—and her hips bucked again, leaving her a trembling and moaning mess.

Zuko pushed his tongue between her folds again, lapping up her fresh, hot cum, groaning at the sweetness. Imora lay limp and twitching, her body still full of warmth, clit still throbbing quickly.

When her fiancé finished his feast, his licked her juices from his lips and lifted an eyebrow. “You were a very good girl for me, Imora. So sweet and delicious.” He laid down beside her, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She raised her eyebrows.

Soon, Imora was straddling him, rubbing herself against his still-erect cock. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, kissing down his muscular chest and settling on the floor between his legs. Hooking her fingers in the waist of his trousers, Imora yanked them and his undergarments down to his ankles. “Did you think we were done, Fire Lord Zuko?”

Desire flashed in her eyes as his large cock slapped against his torso.


	2. a snowy night in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ chapter trigger warnings: (implied) miscarriage, depression ~
> 
> for the gaang, it's been 10 years since the end of the hundred year war.  
> for team avatar 2.0, it's 5 years later since the end of s4.
> 
> (my OG character is a water & bloodblender from the southern water tribe, named Imora, 24y/o)

The snow came down like rain, heavy and wet and all at once.

First, the bedroom window collected frost, and the light of the setting sun sparkled through the snowflakes, making the room shimmer. Fifteen minutes later, snow covered half of the glass, only leaving enough room to peak outside at the ferocious blizzard. Another ten minutes and it was completely obscured, casting a dark shadow on the bedroom and its contents, leaving the fire in the hearth as the only source of warmth and light.

Imora enveloped herself in the thick, fur blanket at the edge of the bed, silently cursing Sokka for keeping her in the Earth Kingdom for so long that she’d briefly forgotten the harsh climate of her home as she shivered. Her feet padded noiseless steps towards the fire across the room, and she crossed her legs, plopping down onto a knitted floor pillow.

There was a soft knock and the face of her beloved poked from behind the door with a bright grin.

“You can come in, Sokka. I’m okay, I promise.” Though her lips held a smile, it was a lie. Her voice was shaky and quiet, so obviously unlike her.

Sokka slipped inside, and presented her with a bowl cradled in his hands. He dropped down to one knee, bowing his head, “My lady, your humble servant has brought you seaweed noodles and steamed dumplings.” He looked up, flashing a brilliant grin, and she felt her stomach flip. “Your favorite.”

Imora couldn’t help but chuckle.

Sokka took it as a good sign and sat beside her, the fire illuminating his handsome features. He passed her the bowl, his eyes flickering down to her abdomen and then back up to her forlorn eyes. Sokka’s blue irises held a kind of sadness, too, not completely the same.

He would never understand the agony of a miscarriage—the pain, the loss, the feeling of failing as a woman. The moment Katara told her she would be a mother, Imora had burst into tears and sprinted from the Healing Hut to her husband during a council meeting. Hakoda didn’t mind the interruption when his daughter-in-law rushed through the door, face streaked with tears, calling out for Sokka— “ _Where’s my husband? I need him! Please…please, I need Sokka!_ ” He remembered being so scared, so worried, seeing his wife so hysterical—he was sure something horrible had happened.

But no, in fact, it was wonderful. What a beautiful, wonderful, incredible surprise to them both. And they were ready. Ready for the responsibility, ready for this new adventure in their life. How badly Sokka wanted a son, to teach to fight like his father did with him. How badly Imora wanted to give that to him.

How badly she felt like she had let down the love of her life.

Imora stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and jump and flicker. Zuko once spoke about how fire was alive, how it breathed, how it thrived in the right conditions. Her eyes began to burn, her head began to ache, but she couldn’t look away. The fire mesmerized her, took her mind off things. She felt as though she could watch it all day and all night, wrapped in that blanket, on the floor or in the bed.

Wherever.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

The bowl sat steaming in her lap, sending warmth down her calves, to her cold toes, and she trembled. The dumplings bopped in the broth and, with a shaking hand, she ate for the first time in days.

“That’s my girl,” Sokka purred gently in his deep voice.

He watched his wife closely, rubbing Imora’s back with his large palm, as she ate every last bite in the bowl. It was a long, slow process, as her stomach twisted uncomfortably with each mouthful.

It broke his heart to see the woman he loved so dearly in so much agony. If she had it her way, she would waste away in this room, but he would never let that happen. When Katara told him Imora had lost the baby, she was the only thing on his mind—

_“Is she going to be okay?” Sokka asked, gripping his boomerang tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white with strain._

_“She needs rest.” Katara said gently, her eyes sparkling with tears. The devastation ricocheted throughout their family and the pain was felt by everyone close to them. “I’m going to try to heal her with everything I have. She is heartbroken, Sokka, and she is going to need a lot of help for her to get through this.”_

_“She won’t tell me how she’s feeling.” His voice was desperate. “She won’t_ talk _to me.”_

_Katara put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s hurting. She lost her child.”_

_“I lost_ my _child, too!” He buried his face in his hands, and, without fully understanding the depth of his pain, he wept._

—Sokka wrapped a strong arm around his wife, pulling her onto his lap, the empty bowl clattering against the floor. Her teary, ocean eyes gazed into his own—he felt exactly as she did. Broken, distraught, confused, exhausted.

Imora cradled his cheeks, stroking his strong jaw with her thumbs, rubbing the shaved sections of his hair with her fingertips. Their foreheads leaned against one another’s, noses brushing. His warmth, his touch, his skin made her feel safe. Secure. The way he moved _with_ her…he was the yang to her yin. The light to her darkness.

“You have to talk to me,” whispered Sokka, holding her tenderly, terrified she may disappear from him forever.

“I’m so sorry.” She whimpered, laying her head down on his shoulder, staring into the fire once again. “I’m so sorry I let you down.” Imora tried to stifle her sob by pressing her mouth against the fur lining his vest, but her body shook as she cried. “All you’ve ever wanted was to have a baby—a son—to teach and play with, and I failed you.”

For a moment, her sobs became uncontrollable, and Sokka never let her go.

He rocked her in his arms, shushing her softly, planting gentle kisses to her hair. “Imora,” he murmured occasionally, reminding her of his presence, that he would always be there.

When she could finally collect herself, Imora wiped away her tears, sniffling. She met Sokka’s gaze, “I’m sorry, I’m being dramatic. I’m sorry.” Her words came out in a quick jumble of apologies, as she waved her hands, hoping the past ten minutes would disappear like smoke in the air.

Sokka took her face in his hands, his eyes seemingly peering into her soul. “You are not being dramatic, Imora. We lost our child, your pain is justified.” Her eyes began to water again as he spoke. “You have _never_ let me down. You are _not_ a failure. You are my life, my world, my… _everything_.” He pushed a few strands of walnut-hued curls from her flushed face, tucking them behind her ear. “You need to start going to Katara regularly, honey. She can really help you recover, you’ve been through so much.”

She leaned her cheek against his hand, closing her eyes, “I will, I promise.”

“We _will_ have a baby. It just wasn’t our time yet.” His words broke her heart.

“I just…” she clutched her abdomen, searching for the bump that no longer was there. “I just wish it was our time.”

Imora searched in Sokka’s eyes for the answers she needed. _Why did this happen to her? How could she survive this?_ _How could she go on in life with such anguish? Such crippling despair?_

And the answers were all there, within him. In her true love. Her Sokka.

He pressed his lips together tightly, breathing in deeply though his nose. “I love you with my entire being. Imora, I can’t live without you. We have so much time to have a family, but I need you to be there when we do.”

In her chest, Imora felt her heart thud against her ribcage, feeling alive once again. Her husband was right, it would be okay. _She_ would be okay. And while she longed for her baby to kick inside her, she knew that would never happen again.

At least, it wouldn’t for now.

“I love you so much,” she whimpered, pressing her lips to his, kissing him deeply. Sokka’s lips shaped with her own, his fingers twisting into her thick hair.

He stood slowly, lifting her with him, without breaking their kiss. The blanket Imora once clutched fell to the floor, a mere memory. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, pressing her body fully against his. He tugged on the roots of her hair, and Imora moaned quietly, eyebrows narrowing.

_How long had it been since she’d felt such a rush?_

Her legs gripped tighter around him, and she barely pulled her lips from his—only enough for her to speak. “Take me to bed.”

Sokka answered her request with a low rumble in his chest and walked over to the massive bed covered in luxurious furs, blankets, and pillows in various shades of blue. Sokka laid his wife down with all the gentleness and care she needed. Piercing blue eyes met her own, and a hunger burned inside him.

With the same tenderness, Sokka’s hands touched every inch of her body. Time had seemingly slowed down for them—every movement, every caress, every kiss was savored. He wanted to show Imora how he felt about her. How he treasured her.

How he adored her.

Sokka’s lips found her neck, pressing hot kisses to her cold skin. A quiver ran through her body and she rolled her neck to the side, allowing him to do anything he wanted. Her hands were ravenous—she needed to feel him, to feel his skin on her own—and her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his vest.

Sensing her worry, he stood, letting his vest fall from his shoulders to the floor and pulled his tunic over his head in an easy movement. Imora’s eyelids fell heavy with yearning as he gazed down at her. Sitting up, she reached out for him, her fingertips dragging along the toned muscles of his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Everything about Sokka was all strength and power and beauty.

Imora leaned forward, brushing her lips against his soft, brown skin. The cold tip of her nose was a shocking contrast from her hot breath, and he shivered. The longing in his expression was met with an equal look from his wife.

All he needed was one word.

“Please,” she murmured softly, pressing a kiss just below his bellybutton.

Slowly, Sokka dipped down, catching Imora’s lips with his own. His mouth moved with hers, their tongues dancing together. The minty taste of his tongue made Imora’s mouth water, and she tangled her fingers into his long hair at the crown of his skull. She tugged at the tie holding the ponytail, which gave way easily and his hair fell freely to the sides.

With a mind of its own, his mouth trailed down her neck, while he gripped the bottom of her tunic and swiftly stripped it from her body. Sokka’s mouth continued its journey, pressing wet kisses to her collarbones and sternum, to the curves of her breasts and down her abdomen. His fingers found their way to the waistband of her leggings, slowly and carefully peeling them off.

“ _Imora_ ,”

The way Sokka moaned her name made her warm and wet, and butterflies fluttered about in her stomach. She writhed beneath his touch, impatient for more, but deep within, she felt guilty for even thinking about having sex.

About having any form of pleasure.

Pushing the doubt aside, Imora grasped at Sokka, bringing his hungry lips to her own, letting time slow down for them once again. Her eager hands undid his trousers and shoved them down to his ankles. He kicked them away at once, crawling atop his naked wife and palming her soft thighs, hiking them around his waist.

Unremittingly, the tip of Sokka’s length rubbed her pulsating clit, to which she gasped against his mouth, back arching into a curve. Imora’s hips moved on their own—bucking upwards, rolling, and squirming against his cock—wanting and needing and craving more.

Her hips rolled faster and harder against his hardness, stimulating her throbbing pussy until her head swam with excitement. Sokka kissed her deeply, letting his tongue find its way in between her lips as he slipped his cock inside her.

“Oh _, Sokka…!_ ” She cried out at the feeling of his fullness. Her fingernails dug into his back, dragging slowly downward as his hips swayed, thrusting his entirety into her.

Sokka wrapped himself around Imora, every inch of her body being touched by his own. Their bodies moved as one, skin against skin, heat against heat, lips moaning each other’s names against their mouths. Her hands wandered freely about his body, stroking, caressing, scratching whatever she touched.

And with each thrust, with each kiss to her neck, passion burned within her. Every kiss felt like bliss, every touch like ecstasy. The rhythm of his hips expressed his desire for her, and she, in return, ached for him. Sokka knew he threw her into a frenzy—everything about him made her weak and she didn’t try to hide it.

“Imora, my love,” he murmured huskily in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut. _It’s too soon. It can’t be over yet._ But her pussy throbbed around his cock, and each thrust to that _perfect_ spot made her seize up and whimper. Sokka could tell she was close; he, too, felt the ache.

“ _I love you…_ ” Imora moaned, curving her back as Sokka’s thrusts became faster, driving her absolutely wild.

The sweet heat building in her lower abdomen finally came to head, bursting and flowing throughout her body with a cry. She could feel the gush of her cum lubricating his cock inside her as he continued.

“ _Fuck…_ ” He cursed at the phenomenal feeling of his length slipping in and out of her. The sensations of her pussy pulsing against his sensitive tip sent Sokka over the edge. He gripped her hair and pressed his forehead to her own.

Imora trembled and moaned weakly as Sokka’s muscles clenched and he came inside of her, groaning against her mouth. His hips moved slowly and easily, milking the cum from his erection, leaving him shaky and satisfied.

He nudged his nose against his wife’s, humming a soft, content noise with a smile creeping upon his lips. Sokka stroked her hair, pressing tiny kisses around Imora’s face as she kept close hold of him. She didn’t want him off (or out) of her anytime soon.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, “I love you. You are everything to me. You are everything.”

“My Imora,” he murmured tenderly, wiping stray teardrops with the pad of his thumb. “I will never let you go.”


	3. the lion turtle meadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the gaang, it's been 10 years since the end of the hundred year war.  
> for team avatar 2.0, it's 5 years later since the end of s4.
> 
> (my OG character is a water & bloodblender from the southern water tribe, named Imora, 24y/o)

Aang had taken her elephant koi riding.

Early in the morning, Aang woke Imora up very sweetly before the sun peaked over the horizon. The sky had been such a pale, beautiful shade of gold as he ushered her onto Appa and began their flight to Kyoshi Island. The air was crisp for their very sudden journey and the spring winds gave her shivers—Imora rubbed her arms with her hands to warm herself.

“You know where to go, buddy.” Aang petted Appa’s head fondly and set down the reigns, hopping up light as a feather, back onto the saddle. With a gentle smile, he sat down beside Imora, pulling her into his arms.

She had curled up close to him, humming at the immediate comfort of his warmth. Her arms tucked back into his robes, finding the hem of his long, yellow tunic and pushed her hands up inside. Aang jumped at the feeling of her frozen fingertips against his skin. He beamed down at her, amused, as her hands trailed up his back, tracing his muscles, shoulders, spine.

“Hey there, sugar,” Aang purred tenderly, smiling down at her with a loving gaze in his large, grey eyes.

Imora kneaded her fingers into his muscles, gently. “Where are you kidnapping me to?” she murmured just loudly enough for him to hear. She dragged her knuckles across his shoulder blades, digging into his skin.

Aang laughed heartily, his youth making an appearance while he lounged back in the saddle. The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile—Imora admired his casual and comfortable ease, because she knew how stressful being the Avatar could be, especially now that he was an adult. Everyone expected so much from Aang all the time and she worried about his mental health. He wanted to please everyone, save everything, be everywhere—and she believed he needed a break.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t mind being guided onto his flying bison so early in the morning for some random adventure he had planned for the two of them.

Kyoshi Island had greeted them warmly, thrilled to have the Avatar back once again. The leader of the village led them into his large, wooden home, generously providing them with a great lunch of fish, rice, sushi, and dumplings, thanking Aang over and over for his visit. They all sat cross-legged on the green floor pillows, and ate almost everything on the various dishes atop the round table.

Half an hour later, Aang whisked her away to the beach. In a quiet cove, Appa feasted on a bale of hay provided by the village leader and then took a well-deserved nap. Imora leaned back against his thick fur, watching Aang on his glider. He was in search of a school of elephant koi, wanting to ride one first before teaching his girlfriend.

Imora folded Aang’s robes and tunic, admiring the defined, lean muscles of his upper body as he flew. His back and arms flexed while he held onto the glider, and Imora bit her lip, smirking. _Oh, how she loved to watch him._

She pushed herself off the sleeping bison, tangling her fingers in his fur and giving him little, affectionate scratches. The gargantuan animal let out a groan of approval and shifted onto his back.

Slowly, Imora undressed herself, removing her navy leggings and pale blue tunic, letting the sun warm her naked skin. Aang gaped at her as he hovered over the waves, with a giant grin and wide eyes. It was over just as quickly as it began—Imora shrugged on a sleeveless, cropped top and matching white shorts—and waved her long arm, signaling that she was ready. 

He became a blur of amber, beige, and blue after spotting the massive group of fish. Aang flew down close to the water in between the three elephant koi, and she saw him leap onto one, holding onto its dorsal fin. The fish was undisturbed by the rider on its back, and sensing his joy, the koi soared out of the water with a magnificent leap. Aang’s contagious laughter could be heard from the beach, it echoed in Imora’s ears, leaving her beaming.

After the fish jumped a couple more times for him, Aang leapt high into the air, gliding back to Imora on the beach, who was leaning back on her elbows, watching with a grin. It felt like summer there on the beach—the breeze blew warm, the tropical foliage was in full bloom, and the ocean shimmered.

A splash of water and a gust of wind came when he landed, and the sun shined down on the Avatar, surrounding him like a golden aura. Imora thought he looked divine—his body glistening with water droplets, muscles flexing as he shook off the seawater.

“Hey, my beautiful girlfriend,” Aang plopped down beside her, stroking her spine with his fingertips.

She chuckled, softly, and Appa groaned behind them, turning back over onto his stomach. “Hey, my gorgeous boyfriend.” Imora raised an eyebrow and licked her bottom lip. “How were the koi?”

“They were very nice, very friendly,” he said, eyes sparkling. “You ready to ride?”

She nodded excitedly, taking the hand he offered her.

~

Imora sat up suddenly.

“Where the hell is Momo?” With sudden realization, she looked around wildly—specifically Aang’s shoulders and Appa’s head.

Aang rolled over onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “He’s hanging out with Sokka; they’re going with Toph to Ba Sing Se.” He reached over, pushing a loose tendril behind her ear. “She’s visiting her parents.”

“Ooh, how nice,” she murmured with a smile, her heart returning to its normal rhythm. “How did you find this place?”

They lounged on a blanket atop a grassy hill, wildflowers blossoming, the birds and bees and butterflies all drifting about. Trees stood hundreds of feet tall in the valley at the bottom of the hill, with bright, luscious leaves. Flora and fauna alike existed in peace with one another and with the isle they were now on not too far from the coast of Kyoshi Island.

“I was just flying by a couple months ago and here it was. I tried to come back a week later, but it disappeared. But now it’s back!” Aang pressed his hand to the grass and closed his eyes. “I can’t explain it, but this island feels alive.” His eyes and tattoos flashed white when he opened them again, the Avatar state seemingly triggered by the island.

Imora’s eyebrows narrowed. “Weird.” Inhaling slowly, she felt like she could smell everything—lavender, sea salt, the deep warmth of a forest. “It could be a lion turtle. Do you think it’s a lion turtle?” She asked eagerly, making a thrilled face.

Aang sat up quickly. “Holy shit, it’s absolutely a lion turtle!” He grabbed her face with both hands and pressed a swift kiss to her unsuspecting lips. “Imora, you’re a genius! _Ugh_ , I love you. I should go talk to it. Chat about spirits and such.” He spoke in short bursts, his enthusiasm overflowing. “Okay, you stay here, babe, and keep being amazing.” And with a sweet peck to her forehead, he jumped off the hill and bouded away on blasts of air.

But he wasn’t gone for long, and Imora knew he couldn’t stay away.

The distant chirps of insects and the croons of wood frogs in the trees created a natural lullaby of constant, quiet noise. Imora stretched out on the blanket, wishing Momo was curled up beside her. She really wished she was holding something. The perfect island, this lion turtle was. And she felt completely comfortable—the buzzing of the world around her, the rumble of Appa’s snoring—and she fell fast asleep.

And like she predicted, Aang was back in half an hour.

He found her sleeping peacefully with a soft smile on her lips and her hair splayed out around her head like a crown.

Humming gently, the airbender rested down on his knees before Imora, running his hands up her legs, feeling the curves of her hips and waist. She groaned quietly, eyelids fluttering as she stirred.

“My favorite,” she murmured, opening her eyes to see Aang inches from her face with an infectious smile on his pink lips. Her arms snaked around his waist, scratching his back with her nails, softly. “How did the chat go, Avatar Aang?”

Aang cocked his head to the side with a smirk. “It was great! Very spirit-y.” His fingers tangled in her hair, stroking her temple with the pad of his thumb. “You look beautiful,” and leaning down, he pressed the softest kiss to her lips.

“ _Mmm_ …” Imora purred, kissing him back deeply, parting her lips and stroking his bottom lip with her tongue. He smiled against her lips and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The tips of her fingernails dragged across the skin of his back, neck, and cleanly shaved head, tracing the arrow.

With a low groan, Aang nudging his nose against Imora’s. “I just want to kiss every inch of your body. You’re so stunning.” He murmured, his lips trailing across her jawline to her neck. Soft nibbles tickled her earlobe and his tongue grazed the outer shell of her ear, making her squirm and giggle.

“You should do that,” said Imora in a whisper. Goosebumps spread across her skin as she felt the upturn of his lips and the warm breath of his laugh.

“And so, I will.”

Aang pressed a trail of wet kisses down her neck, to her shoulder blades, dragging his teeth against her bone gently. A moan escaped her lips, digging her nails into his flexed biceps as he sucked on her collarbone.

It was times like these that Imora wished Aang had hair. She wanted to tangle her fingers those soft brown locks and tug on the roots, but she also loved the bare skin—kissing his forehead in the morning, making him wear hats when they visited her home because he looked so adorable all bundled up.

His tongue traced a wet line to the other collarbone and shoulder, scattering kisses down her arm, on the palm of her hand, and on her fingertips, flicking his tongue across each. Shifting his body slightly, Aang unfolded her legs from his waist, holding her feet in both hands, her knees bent. Their eyes never parted from one another as he kissed the bottom of her foot. Imora gasped softly when he wrapped his lips around her big toe, sucking and running over it with his teeth. She squirmed as his tongue slipped in between her toes, the sensation tickling and making her feel warm all over.

Heat rose to Imora’s cheeks and ears as, one by one, Aang sucked each of her toes. She could barely stay still—but she didn’t want to be still, she wanted him to fuck her. She needed to be fucked.

Eyelids heavy with desire, her chest heaved excitedly and she almost moaned, “Aang, I need you.” She bit the insides of her cheeks, trying to control herself in any way she could.

The airbender smirked, kissing her ankle bone and then pressing his tongue flat to her skin, dragging it all the way up her leg to her inner thigh. Imora gasped under her breath, and she throbbed with anticipation. She could feel the wetness soaking into her thin shorts, writhing once again.

“Imora,” Aang’s voice deepened drastically—it was rough and wanting—and he gazed up at her from between her legs. “Do you want me…or do you _need_ me?” he growled, huskily, nudging his nose against her clit through her shorts.

With another gasp, she nodded, whimpering, “I need you. I _need_ you.”

She loved seeing him at this angle—the tattooed arrow pointing to her pussy, his hungry eyes, his wet lips. _Spirits, what a view._ Aang wrapped his arms around her legs, pressing a hot kiss to her clit over the drenched shorts and sucking softly. Imora cried out, back arching and scrambling to her elbows in attempt to restrain her erratic movements.

Yes, she needed him. She needed to see him, to look deeply into his eyes, to touch him, and feel his movements.

“Aang, _fuck…_ ” Imora whimpered, watching while his fingers hooked into the waist of her shorts, tugging them down slowly. “I—I…” she stuttered, gasping and throwing her head back when his tongue returned to her clit, slipping between the folds of her pussy.

She eased back down on the blanket, blindly reaching for Aang. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, Imora yanked him up and kissed him deeply. The first thing she could taste was herself on his tongue, and her stomach flipped.

_How wicked. How positively naughty of her._

Aang lifted the hem of her top, swiftly removing it from her body and throwing it off to the side. He propped himself on his knees, eyes surveying over Imora’s naked body in great detail. The stroke of his touch along her breasts, waist, and inner thighs made her tremble with excitement. Wetness trickled down from her pussy, a mixture of Aang’s saliva and her arousal. Their eyes connected for an intense gaze, and he smeared the liquid across the pad of his thumb, lifting it to his mouth.

Imora’s heart skipped a beat as his tongue lapped it up, her mouth gaping open and an eyebrow raising. He sucked softly on his finger and, with a quiet _pop_ , he pulled it from his mouth, smirking.

“You…I…” she stammered, the words and thoughts not coming together to form a coherent sentence. “What can I do? For you. Let me take care of you.” It came out in a rushed, low whisper.

His thick eyebrows narrowed, his features softening at the offer. Aang stroked her cheek gently with his fingertips. “You can do anything you want to do, sweetheart. Anything you do will drive me absolutely wild.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, seemingly smiling at a memory. A memory of his girlfriend, in fact.

She hoped her eyes were showing the emotion she felt—exhilaration, pleasure, awe. Aang continuously made her feel so _fucking_ extraordinary, as if she was the only woman in the world.

And to him, she was.

It was impossible to know how much they loved each other, but they both believed they were soulmates—although, neither of them have mentioned that thought to one another. Aang would, with time, tell Imora that he believed she was his soulmate. In fact, he planned to do that very soon, after Sokka showed him how to carve the betrothal necklace.

“Lay on your back,” murmured Imora, licking her lips slowly.

Aang did as he was told, the two of them switching positions, and she copied the way he sat—on her knees, in between his legs. Imora’s hands ran up the sides of his strong thighs, tugging on the loose fabric of his trousers.

“Why do you still have these on?” she asked with a teasing smile and a twinkle in her eye.

He cocked his head, beaming playfully. “I don’t know, maybe you should take them off.” Aang bit his bottom lip, his grey eyes animated.

Imora refused to be careful in removing his pants. They had been on his body for far too long and should’ve been off by now, in her opinion. And with a quick motion, the amber pants were discarded to the side with her clothing. She was pleased to see how large the tent of his undergarments from his erection, a smile dancing on her lips. Leaning down, her arms hooked around Aang’s muscular thighs and she pressed a hot kiss to the very tip of his length over his undergarments, just as he had tantalized her before.

Aang bit his lip, passion flashing in his eyes. He rolled his hips slightly, his cock nudging against her lips. “Look at what you do to me,” he crooned.

Humming in agreement, her fingertips massaged his hard length, feeling the blood pumping through his veins just as fast as her heart pounded against her ribcage. She gripped the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down promptly—the sound of his erection slapping against his abdomen made her moan under her breath.

Her hands rubbed up and down his legs, kneading his muscles, gripping his hips, stroking her fingers across his balls softly. Aang’s cock jerked at her touch and his brows narrowed, a groan escaping from his parted lips.

“Bad girl,” he growled.

Imora met his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “I know what you like, sugar,” she said certainly in a low, alluring voice.

And she pressed her hot, wet tongue against the base of his length, dragging it upwards, wrapping her mouth around his tip and sucking gently. Aang moaned, his head falling back against the blanket. Imora gripped the base of his cock, stroking oh-so slowly and torturously, her tongue swirling around the tip, slurping up the salty pre-cum that oozed.

Aang cursed, his hips bucking upwards. “ _Imora…_ ”

The sound of his arousal drove her wild—she released his cock from her lips with a sloppy _pop_ and she crawled atop him, holding his erection and circling it around her clit. Aang’s eyes went wide, watching her with an amazed and stunned gaze.

Imora straddled his waist, rolling her hips against his cock. Warmth continued to build in the pit of her stomach and her head swam with need and pleasure and yearning. Her hands ran up his strong chest, gripping his shoulders, and with a lift of her hips, she eased down on his cock. It only took a moment for her to adjust to the entirety of his length inside her and her pussy stretched around his girth.

“Spirits, _fuck,_ ” groaned Aang, his head spinning at the wetness that enclosed around his sensitivity.

Breathless, Imora nudged her nose against his and kissed him deeply, slipping her tongue in between his lips. She started slow—rolling, rubbing, and swaying her hips—clutching onto Aang’s chest and fingers digging into his skin. He observed her in awe, eyes glazed over and mouth gaped open.

His cock twitched and throbbed inside her and she couldn’t stand it anymore. Imora straightened her back and began to ride his length, her hips raising and lowering hard and fast. The sound of slapping skin and soft whimpers filled the air as she bounced on the Avatar’s cock, her breasts jostling about.

Aang sat up, catching one of her nipples in his mouth, stroking it with his tongue and sucking on the sensitive nub. Imora threw her head back, releasing a moan without restraint. One of his large hands spanked her ass, leaving it stinging, and ran up her waist to her other breast. He rolled her free nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging softly and brushing the tip with his finger.

“I’m—I…Aang, I’m…” she stammered, trailing off.

Heat exploded inside her after Imora slammed down on his cock and her entire body clenched, warmth spreading across her skin. A cry of pure pleasure escaped her lips and echoed in the valley below—birds cawing and fleeing from the safety of the trees.

“ _Yes_ , baby,” he growled against her nipple, dragging his teeth across and flicking it with his tongue. His large hands gripped Imora’s waist, and with an upward thrust, white light flashed in his eyes and tattoos. Aang came hard inside of her, a husky moan rumbling deep within his chest.

Collapsing back onto the blanket, he stretched his arms out above his head, grunting quietly and smiling playfully. He pulled Imora down and enclosed her in his arms, holding her close, stroking her back with his fingertips.

“I’m so sorry, Lion Turtle, if you heard that.” Imora said, giggling against his warm skin. She pressed a soft kiss to his sternum and set her chin there, gazing up at him.

Aang’s contagious laugh burst out, making his girlfriend beam. He stroked her hair affectionately, “The lion turtle has had many generations of people living on it, so… I think it may just block it out. Like the sound… maybe?” He grinned, shaking his head.

Imora rested her ear to his chest, listening to the comfortable thump of his heart. Their heartbeats and breathing were in sync as they lay there together. She hummed tenderly, tracing shapes on his chest with her fingertips.

In that very moment, the Avatar knew he could carve the betrothal necklace without Sokka’s help. He knew what to do and what it would look like—a combination of the air and water elemental symbols, interwoven together to create a brand new a symbol. One that would be unique to them and their story and their love.

And Aang decided he would bring Imora back to this very spot and ask her to be his.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> let me know if you have any specific requests! i'd be happy to write any ship, reader x character, etc., one shots!


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